A Change in Perspective

Two Examples

   More and more I hear the argument that those who are diehard believers, in such and such a cause, will always be believers in their cause; their vote cannot be peeled away from the candidate that they’ve always supported. And so, there is no reason to try to persuade someone to think or act differently. It is a fruitless endeavor. Such are the challenges facing those in politics. I guess this is among the many reasons why I do not concern myself too much with politics.

   Yet, when I think of it, there have been times when I’ve changed my mind about something that I used to be very passionate about. Often, we don’t recall these events. When someone we love dies, or we are fired from our job, we don’t think of that experience as something worthwhile to consider from the standpoint of how we are changed. We may tell ourselves to “get back on our feet.” We may convince ourselves that using our unemployment is an opportunity to take that vacation we’ve always wanted. Or we may indulge ourselves in depression. In any case, we are given opportunities to change the way we think and feel many times in our lives.

   When this kind of opportunity arises, I believe that it is a change in perspective that is required in order to wake us up to a possible real change in our lives. Of course, a negative effect can result from a change in perspective as well. This is why being fully aware and humbled by an experience is necessary. We shouldn’t react to a sudden challenge; we should, instead, pro-act.

   I want to illustrate what I mean by giving two real examples of something that happened to me. Both insisted that I look and reevaluate my situation and myself at large. Both caused a change in my perspective.

   About 20 years ago, I had a business where I produced large photographic photos to be placed in retail stores scattered throughout malls all over the country. It was not unusual for me to go through 30 rolls of 100’ photographic paper for a single job. As a matter of fact, I regularly kept an inventory of 50 rolls of paper in various sizes in order to meet the demands of my clients.

   One particular job required 30 rolls of 30” wide material. As usual, I ordered the paper well in advance of receiving the job. I had plenty of 40,” 50,” and 72” material; I just didn’t have 30” as that size was not particularly in high demand. When my production staff was ready to set up the darkroom to proceed, I was informed that the paper had not arrived.

   Now, one thing I have to admit, I was a young entrepreneur who was pretty full of himself. So, I got on the phone and complained bitterly to my supplier about the late shipment. They replied that my personal sales rep would be in contact with me. Well, it was later that night when I finally got a phone call. As I explained my predicament, he replied, “I am sorry for this. New Jersey is closed right now so there’s little I can do at this moment, but tomorrow morning I will call them and try to get this resolved as soon as possible.” Then he added, “Right now I’m not even in the Bay Area, I’m in Seattle where my wife had to undergo an MRI, and she passed away while undergoing the procedure. So I’m a little scattered as I am now a single father of a little girl, but I’ll do what I can tomorrow morning.” And I said, “What? You just lost your wife?” He said, “Yeah, but that won’t get in the way of what you need.” Then I said, “Oh, don’t worry about me. Take care of your family. I’ve got some 40” rolls that I can use in the meantime. I’ll just have them cut it down to size after processing the prints.”

   The shift in perspective was immediate in this case. At the end of the conversation I mostly felt like a fool, and I was reminded that there were more important things in life than meeting a shipping deadline.

   That was 20 years ago. The second example was more recent. It happened last year. I want to say first that I closed my business in 2014. The building I was leasing was to be turned into condos and I had 2 years notice that this was happening. I took the best equipment from my lab and brought it home to my mother’s building. I built a black and white lab in the storage rooms where I could continue to make fine black and white photographs. I believed I would be occupied in this profession for the remaining years of my life.

   But then in the early part of 2023, I noticed that I had not gone into my darkroom for weeks. Previously, I was there at least twice a week, more like three times a week. I wasn’t sure why there was this change, but I had to admit to myself that something had changed. I was used to getting up in the morning with a whole schedule of what was to be done, and all of a sudden, there was no plan.

   Then one day, as I was walking my dogs, I noticed up ahead something I had not seen before. Upon approaching the scene, I came across a broken tree. As I walked around it, it just seemed to look like how I felt, that is, broken. I decided to come back the very next day at precisely the same time with my camera. I brought two. One was a 4”x5” wooden camera which I used to make a horizontal image of the tree. I also brought a 6x7 Makina rangefinder which I used to make a vertical image.

   I then brought the film back to my darkroom and proceeded to process the film and to and make an enlargement. I concentrated on the 4”x5” negative and began to make a print that looked like how I felt, namely, broken. It was heavy and dark. I finished the print, mounted it onto a board and made a frame for it. I used it as a subject for one of my last videos on youtube. (I have a channel on youtube where I teach film photography.)

   And then I got a phone call from my friend who was my production manager at my lab. He informed me that one of our co-workers was recently diagnosed with cancer. He had only months to live. This co-worker was not only a friend; he was also a guitar student of mine, back when I taught guitar after work. He had a young wife and two young children. This news brought back memories of losing my wife to cancer in 2012. I was devastated.

   The next day I went to see Patrick in the hospital and he was so happy to see me. We spoke of the old days and he told me he was in a band playing music now with friends and he performed regularly at a bar. Although he was in pain, he was smiling throughout my visit. His wife invited me to their house about a week later where Patrick would be hosting a get together with friends. When I got there I saw over 100 folks having a grand time. Patrick was using a walking stick and making the rounds introducing me to all his friends and family. He was obviously having a great time.

   Two weeks later I went by with some dim sum to visit. He was now bedridden and had lost much weight. He was still in good spirits. I brought with me a photograph of the broken tree, except I had made a new print. I used the vertical version made with the 2^nd camera and I made the print much lighter than the first. It had a very different feeling.

   You see, whereas I felt broken about losing my “addiction” to photography, in a way that’s what it was (that’s another story in itself), here was a friend who had, literally, a broken body. I felt dark, moody and lost. He felt honored and grateful for the life he had had. That was a revelation. The broken tree now looked as if it was gracefully bowing out of life. I composed a haiku.

                             Once I stood tall. Now the graceful curtain calls, and I take my bow.

   I hung the framed photograph on the kitchen wall before I left that day. I didn’t see Patrick again after that. Months later I went to his celebration of life memorial. There, again, were the many friends. I brought my guitar and performed “Dance With My Father,” by Luther Vandross. I then gave the guitar I brought to Patrick’s son Liam.

   As I walked out I thought about how grateful I was to have known and learned from my friend. Sometimes you can’t dwell on the immediate response you may have to any situation. You can have an immediate shift in perspective in some cases, but in life, you can be patient and allow yourself the opportunity to perceive things differently. Isn’t that the way to see life as a blessing?

The Horizontal Image

The Vertical Image